Sitting in the Lull

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"The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun."  Ecclesiastes 1:9


Sometimes I become so focused on myself and my hurt that I forget I'm not alone.  I forget that there are others who have been here before me, and sadly others that will follow.


I want to help others understand why I stay, but really I want to help myself understand.


For years as I looked at my husband, I didn't see an abuser.  I saw a man.  A good man.  A broken man.


He needed someone to take care of him, heal the brokenness inside him, fix him.  And I was up for the challenge.


And as we went through the cycles, the highs were oh so high, and the lows so devastatingly low.  And every time we hit bottom, I was crushed, until finally I am the one who is broken.  I am the one who needs saving.


And while I know I am not alone, I know that I am the only one who can save me . . . and it seems impossible, sometimes even unreasonable.


There have been no real lows now for 2 months, but there have also been no highs.  I've come crashing down so many times now that I simply cannot trust anymore.  I cannot believe.  I cannot be hopeful.


So, I'm here.  Just traveling through life . . . living with a man with whom I share a child and have sex, but otherwise have no real relationship.


It's hard for me, when things are going along fairly smoothly, to look at the reality of my situation.


The reality is, I want to love.  I want to trust.  I want to hope.  I want to dream.  I want to live.  I want a marriage . . . a real marriage, where I love, and trust, and hope, and dream, and live with someone.


But the reality also is that my emotionally disconnected marriage is somewhat stable, if not fulfilling.  I may not be fulfilled in this state, but I also am not afraid of where I am.  I'm afraid of where I'm going . . .


I may be existing in relative calm, but I'm also existing in emotional limbo, for at this moment I see two options and view them both with trepidation:  moving forward with an empty relationship or moving toward a completely unknowable future . . .


And I sit here, because sometimes it's easier to just sit in the lull than to rock the boat . . .


And I look out from my place to a whole new fear . . .  Maybe I'll wait too long . . .  One day I'll swallow my fear and jump and swim, and all of the people coaxing me from the safety of the shore will have given up on me . . . and there'll be no one there to pull me out . . .

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